


I'll keep you safe

by rivendellelve



Series: Young Outlaw [2]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Dutch Has A Plan, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Hosea, Young Arthur Morgan, Young Dutch van der Linde, young hosea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 13:04:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19992676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivendellelve/pseuds/rivendellelve
Summary: Getting Arthur his very first horse was supposed to be happy occasion. Unfortunately keeping the horse you took from a man you killed tends to cause complications if that man also has friends who are out for revenge. And if there had ever been a time when Dutch's plans worked the way they were supposed to, this wasn't it.





	I'll keep you safe

“What?”

“I said”, Dutch repeated with all the flourish of a magician showing off his favorite trick, “She's yours.”

Arthur stared at the ginger mare. Dutch and Hosea had picked her up the same day they had found Arthur when they had saved his life by killing her owner. The fourteen-year-old turned back to Dutch.

“But you said you were going to sell her” he pressed. “You and Hosea were talking about it.” When they had stopped at the stable, Arthur had figured they'd finally sell her.

Dutch chuckled. “Heard that, didn't you? 's true. We were thinking about it. Figured she might be a bit tall for you. But we took her for a ride and she's just the sweetest. Would never even think about throwing her rider.”

Dutch pushed Arthur toward the mare. “Your horse, son. You gotta pick a name for her.”

Arthur didn't understand. He didn't think Dutch would lie to him – in the two months, he had been with the men, they had always been honest with him – but what good was a horse if he couldn't even ride? He said so, surprised when Dutch laid a hand on his shoulder.

“That's why we are going to teach you”, Dutch told him, voice unexpectedly gentle. “Did you think we had you take care of our horses in the past months just so we'd have an extra set of hands?”

To be fair, that was exactly what Arthur had thought. They had already given him food and shelter, bought him new clothes, even had started teaching him reading and writing. It seemed only fair that he did what he could to repay their kindness.

He kept that thought to himself, though. The last time he had said something along those lines both men had looked at him with expressions that he – even though he couldn't quite interpret them – never wanted to see again.

He saw Hosea walk out of the stable with an another man in tow, his smile rivaling Dutch's.

“Ready for your first lesson?”, Dutch asked, giving his shoulder an affectionate squeeze. Arthur managed to nod.

“Good, because the first thing you need to know is, that unless you want to have back pain and a lame horse, you'll need a saddle that fits both rider and horse.” With that he pushed Arthur forward. The stranger gave Arthur an appraising look.

“Heard you need a new saddle for your horse, son?”

“Yes, sir.”

The man paused to stroke the mare's neck.

“What's her name anyway?”

Arthur's mind blanked, eyes searching for Hosea who gave him an encouraging smile and made a small 'Go on' motion with his hands.

“Ginger”, he blurted out. It's what he secretly had been calling her in the privacy of his own head anyway. Yet saying it out loud made him realize what a dumb name it was. Dutch's and Hosea's horses had proper names. He should've thought of something better. His shoulders dropped, sure they were going to mock him or demand he pick a different one.

Dutch clapped a hand on his back. “It suits her”, he laughed, the stranger joining in with a story about how his neighbor used to have a horse called Ginger and what a feisty little beast that had been and why don't we try this saddle, it looks about the right size.

They spent a good portion of the afternoon getting Arthur's saddle fitted and then they led him and Ginger to a field a little ways out of town. There they showed him the most basic riding skill, with Dutch walking beside Arthur, showing him how to use his legs to make Ginger go or stop, how to steer her by shifting his weight, occasionally grabbing his hands or legs and at one point the back of his shirt to correct his posture. Meanwhile Hosea walked in front of them, loosely holding a rope they had tied to Ginger's halter.

By the time Dutch called it a day, Arthur's head was spinning from all the new knowledge. He slid off Ginger, stroking her neck as a quiet thank you for her endless patience with him today. He felt Dutch's hand on his head.

“You did great, son”, Dutch told him. He ducked his head trying to hide his pleased smile. “Now let's head back. Hosea booked us rooms at the inn.”

“A real bed sounds nice, doesn't it?”, Hosea chimed in, giving Arthur an affectionate smile. “What do you say, we take Ginger back to the stable and have dinner at the saloon?”

Arthur agreed enthusiastically. Food sounded great right now. Walking back Dutch split off when they passed the saloon, hoping to scope potential targets or some promising leads. Hosea and Arthur continued to the stable, where they lead Ginger into a box of her own, right next to Hosea's mount. The chestnut gelding stretched his head towards the three of them, curious as always and perpetually begging for treats.

Freeing Ginger of her tack, Arthur fished out the brush and got to work on Ginger's coat with Hosea leaning against the wooden wall, watching him.

“How are you feeling?”

Arthur paused, trying to untangle the complicated mess of emotions, only starting to brush again when Ginger nosed his hand. He settled on the one feeling he could easily identify.

“Tired.” He shrugged.

“It was a lot”, Hosea acknowledged, holding out his arm to guide Arthur out. “Come on, let's go.”

Giving Ginger one last scratch behind her ears Arthur followed Hosea to the saloon.

By now he knew how things worked. They'd get a table and food as if it was only the two of them and then either Dutch would join them, if there was no money to be made, or he'd already be busy spinning his web of lies and deceptions that could and would trick anyone. In that case they'd pretend they didn't know him.

When they entered Arthur's eyes immediately settled on Dutch who was completely entrenched an animated conversation with a finely dressed man. He'd found a target then. The man certainly looked like he had money to spare. Stealing from someone like that meant they'd have to disappear as soon as the deed was done. Probably early in the morning if Dutch was planning on getting him drunk.

Hosea stepped in front of him, partly blocking Arthur's view and gave him a _look_. Realizing he had been staring Arthur lowered his eyes, shame coloring his cheeks and he followed Hosea's lead.

After dinner he was ready to crawl into bed and sleep forever but they couldn't leave just yet. Dutch was still busy. Arthur knew Hosea hated leaving Dutch without backup in a potentially dangerous environment. He didn't want leave Dutch on his own either. He had enough first hand experiences with drunks to know they could appear friendly one moment and then try to bash your head in the next.

Dutifully he stifled a yawn and did his best to stay alert. Hosea, it seemed, wasn't fooled.

“Let's go to our room, shall we?”

Arthur hesitated, almost glancing at Dutch but catching himself at the last second.

“We can stay a bit longer”, he offered. He didn't want the two men compromising their safety just because he was tired.

Hosea smiled at him softly. “Why don't you go ahead without me? We're in room 2-B. Anyone asks, you're my nephew. You know the story.”

Arthur nodded, grateful that Hosea was giving him an easy way out without leaving Dutch's side. Going outside he planned to go straight to their room. Really. But then he passed the stable and the thought of sneaking in and giving Ginger a few more pats was just too tempting.

Sliding in through the open door, Arthur hesitated when he saw men in front of her stall.

“-you, that's Murphy's horse. See-”, the man pointed agitatedly at Ginger, “same blaze, same scar on her leg from when she got caught in that fence. Whoever killed him is here.”

Arthur's stomach dropped. Almost blindly he stumbled back out into the street, forcing himself to walk, despite every fiber in his body screaming at him to run, run and never look back. He just had to get back to Dutch and Hosea. They would know what to do.

The journey back felt much longer than before, the night seemingly colder, too. With a start he realized that this was the first time in two months he was alone in the street at night. Suddenly the shadows cast by the sparsely illuminated windows seemed to loom closer, reaching out with ghostly fingers.

He'd let his guard down and almost walked right into disaster. Even worse, his carelessness could get Dutch and Hosea killed. Reaching for the saloon door, he hesitated. Both men would be working right now. There was no way he could just walk up to them without blowing their cover. He shifted weight from one foot to the other. He could try to catch their attention but a lone boy would draw far too much attention.

A drunk man stumbled through the door, right into Arthur, a greasy hand grabbing the front of his shirt. Foul breath hit his face, the man pulling Arthur close before yelling something unintelligible and shoving Arthur away. The smell of alcohol brought back memories, he had tried hard to forget, made him feel small and vulnerable again.

Anger welled up inside his chest. He wasn't going to let the world shove him back into the role of the terrified and beaten street urchin again. He had Dutch and Hosea now. Things were different. Balling his shaking hands into fists he pushed through the door, determined to prove the world wrong.

Once inside cold reality ruthlessly snuffed out the flames of anger Arthur had fanned against the grip of fear. He couldn't see Dutch or Hosea. Instead far too many eyes of far too inebriated people were on him.

“The hell's a child doing here?” a man roared, prodding Arthur's chest with a pudgy finger and forcing him back into the wall, when he leaned too close for comfort. “They don't serve milk here!”, he jeered, words slurred by alcohol.

“Leave me alone!” Arthur tried to shove him away but the man didn't budge. His eyes took on a malicious glint and he grabbed Arthur's arm with bruising force. And then suddenly, the man was being pulled away from him, Hosea putting himself between Arthur and the other. He was dimly aware of Hosea making up excuses about his nephew coming to get him, already pushing Arthur outside and into an alley. Away from prying eyes.

He had messed up. Blown Hosea's cover, maybe Dutch's, too. He should have dealt with it himself instead of jeopardizing all the work the two men had managed to do after wasting the entire day on him. He was sure, if he were to look at Hosea he would see his face contorted in barely controlled anger. He kept his eyes down.

They stopped once Hosea deemed them hidden enough to not draw attention. Arthur waited for the hand resting on his back to grip him tightly before the beating came, making sure he couldn't run away. He just hoped it would be over quickly. He prayed Hosea wouldn't notice his shaking shoulders. The hand moved from his shoulder and down his arm and Arthur squeezed his eyes shut.

“Arthur? Please look at me, son.”

Arthur obeyed, too terrified to do anything else. Hosea was crouching before him. He didn't look angry but Arthur was sure it was just the poor lighting tricking him into seeing what he wanted to see.

“What happened? I thought you were going to bed?”

Shame sat in his gut very much like a stone. If he had just done what he was supposed to do, none of this would have happened.

“I – I'm sorry, I didn't mean to – I didn't-”, he stuttered. unable to calm his racing thoughts or think beyond the overwhelming need to beg for forgiveness. He fell silent when Hosea started gently rubbing his arm, telling him to breathe, he was okay, they were okay.

“What's wrong?” Dutch's voice behind him startled Arthur enough, he almost bolted, the hand on his arm the only thing stopping him. He saw Hosea shrug as he turned to look at Dutch, acutely aware how both of them were looking at him expectantly, waiting for an explanation for his behavior.

Taking a deep breath, he told them about the men in the stable, the danger they were facing because of him, only barely able to refrain from further apologies when Hosea shushed him. He looked grim, worried even, his brow furrowed and his posture stiff. Arthur did not want to look at Dutch, the younger man far quicker to anger. He was sure Dutch was close to exploding.

Instead he heard Dutch laugh. “This might be exactly what we need.” He felt as confused as Hosea looked. “Did they see you?”

Arthur shook his head no and Dutch's smile widened.

“We can make this work. I've been greasing up this factory owner – rich fellow – all night. Figured I'd lighten his load in a friendly game of poker but if we play our cards right, we could take it all and no one would ever suspect us.” His eyes were positively gleaming. “Son, are you ready for your first heist?”

Hosea shot up from his crouch, took Dutch's elbow and dragged him a few feet away, whispering something to Dutch once they were out of earshot. Arthur couldn't make out any words but Hosea seemed angry.

It hurt, that he didn't trust Arthur enough to pull this off but given how poorly he had handled the unexpected appearance of these men, he couldn't blame him. He just had to prove himself to Hosea. Him and Dutch both.

“I'm ready”, he announced, stepping closer. “Whatever you need me to do, I can do it.”

Both men turned to him, Dutch beaming at him with pride, Hosea looking disappointed. The plan was simple enough. Dutch would distract their target, while Hosea cleaned out his hotel room. Once that was done, Arthur would pose as a stable boy, checking in on the horses, including Ginger. He'd wait for the men to approach him and then tell them, Ginger belonged to the factory owner. Dutch actually made him rehearse exactly what he would tell them, reassuring him everything would go just as planned.

Initially Arthur felt bad about setting up an innocent man but Dutch assured him, they'd never do anything like that. He explained how men like that made their money by exploiting their workers and really, if you were to think about it, they'd be doing the world a favor.

That's how Arthur wound up in front of the stable again, Hosea's grip on his shoulder almost bruising.

“You don't have to do this, Arthur.”

Arthur shook his head. Hosea was wrong, he had to do. “I'll be quick”; he promised hoping his voice sounded more confident than he felt. Hosea sighed.

“Remember what Dutch told you. Don't go straight toward Ginger – you're a stable boy, there's more than one horse to look after. And if you get into trouble, loudly tell them that you should get going and I'll come for you.”

Hosea looked like he wanted to add more but instead sighed and let his hand slip from Arthur's shoulder. Forcing his legs to cooperate Arthur pushed through the door before he could change his mind.

He started with the first box on his left, leaning over the rail as if checking if the animal had enough hay before continuing to the next one. He repeated the action for the next boxes, briefly stopping to stroke the muzzle of Hosea's gelding, more to calm himself and delay the inevitable than to keep up appearances.

He took a deep breath before moving over to Ginger. The mare gave him a wide eyed look, easily able to sense his nervousness. Arthur wanted to call out to her, tell her everything was alright but a presence at his back made him freeze. A hand grabbed the gate right next to Arthur, effectively sealing the exit and he spun around to face a man easily twice his height and probably three time his weight.

“What're you doing with that horse, boy?”, the man snarled, looming over Arthur.

“I -, I'm making sure she got everything she needs, sir. I work here.” The man's hand moved from the gate to his collar, grabbing hold of the fabric of his shirt, thumb idly stroking his throat.

“That so? Then you probably know whose horse that is, don't you?”

Arthur swallowed, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. He could do this. “Yes sir, but I'm not allowed to tell you, sir. Bad for business, you see.”

The man nodded slowly and leaned back, eyes glancing away as a small smile crept over his lips. Arthur almost believed he had been too convincing until a fist buried itself in his stomach, knocking the air out of his lungs, his legs folding beneath him. The hand on his collar yanked him upright again and he was thrown back into the wood.

“Now listen here-”, the man leaned close again, “whoever owns that horse killed my brother. So either you help me find that person or...”, he trailed off, letting the implications hang in the air.

“It's Mr. Aberdeen's, sir. Rich fella, fancy clothes. Can't miss him, stays at the inn next door, room 1-C, sir. Said to make she's all done up and ready in the morning. Said he had a real important meeting with some military folks and couldn't be late.” Arthur snapped his mouth shut. He had said everything Dutch had told him to say and didn't want to risk messing up now by saying to much.

The man stroked a hand over his chin, calculating look in his eyes. His free hand started toying with Arthur's collar, his gaze briefly darting to something to his left before giving him a smile.

“Now, I want you to listen carefully. My friend here is going to take you for a nice walk and everything will be fine but if you make _one_ sound, he will put a bullet in your brain. Are we clear? Nod if you understand!” The last part came out with enough menace that left no doubt as for the sincerity of the threat.

Arthur nodded frantically, hating how he had to blink against the tears in his eyes. He was being shoved forward roughly, the first man letting go of him but another immediately grabbing onto him. Something hard and metallic pressed into his back.

“Be a good boy and this will be over soon.”

Arthur felt like his heart was going to beat right out of his chest as he was being led forward. He had to get out of here. He tried to think but his thoughts were racing too fast for a plan. If didn't do anything he'd get shot. If he yelled for help he'd get shot. If he just let the man lead him away he'd get shot, shot, shot.

He had to do something before they reached whatever isolated location the man was taking him to. Twisting his head toward the hand holding on to his shirt Arthur did the only thing he could think of and bit down hard, ignoring the vile taste in his mouth, while turning his body around and away from the gun at his back. He jumped backward, hoping to make it around the corner.

Time seemed to slow down as the man raised his gun, only for another hand to grab it and wrench it away while a knife was buried deep in his throat. Arthur saw his eyes widen in shock, now empty hands flying to his throat, reaching for the knife before toppling to the ground like a puppet with cut strings.

Time sped up again and suddenly Hosea was in front of him, running his hands over Arthur's arms and shoulders, asking if he was alright.

“I am so sorry, son. I had to wait until his gun wasn't pointing at you, but I promise you I wasn't going to let anything happen to you.” Arthur nodded, sucking in a breath that sounded dangerously close to a sob. He had to get his breathing under control. If he started crying at every little thing he would never be able to prove his worth.

Hosea put a hand around his shoulder gently pulling him away from the dead body. “I don't care what Dutch says, we're leaving this town right now.” Arthur didn't argue. He just hoped Hosea wouldn't notice how his shoulders were shaking.

By the time they got back to the saloon Arthur had calmed down enough not to draw attention. As long as he kept his head down, no one would notice. Inside Hosea made a beeline for Dutch, appearances and subtlety be damned, talking to Dutch in hushed tones. Arthur didn't care to listen what would most likely be a retelling of how he couldn't pull off his part of the plan without needing to be saved. He just hoped Dutch wouldn't be too angry.

Both men turned their heads just enough to look at him, making Arthur hunch his shoulder in a futile attempt to escape the attention. He saw Dutch nod at Hosea before the latter turned to him and, with an arm around his shoulder, led him out of the saloon.

“Dutch will get our bags and the horses and meet us at the edge of town”, he told Arthur, leaning close. “We-” A shot in the distance interrupted whatever he had been about to say. He furrowed his brow. “I suppose that was Mr. Aberdeen.” He continued pulling Arthur along, not letting go even after they reached the town entrance, actually holding Arthur even closer once they stopped. He didn't mind.

“Listen, Arthur – about what happened today”, Arthur's heart sank. He knew he had messed up badly. “We should never have asked this of you. I am so sorry. I promise, we'll never ask you to do anything like this ever again.” He pulled Arthur closer. “It's our job to protect you and not put you at risk.”

Arthur leaned closer, hand gripping the fabric of Hosea's vest. “I'm sorry I messed up”, he whispered.

“You didn't, Arthur. You did everything you could. You can't control what other people do. If anything Dutch and I messed up. But we'll do better.”

Arthur closed his eyes, leaning his head against Hosea's chest. He didn't want to ask but- “What if those men come after me again? What if they realize it was a trap?” Hosea wrapped his arms around him tightly.

“Then we'll kill them. I won't let anyone hurt you ever again.” He said it so matter-of-factly, Arthur found himself believing the words. “I promise I'll keep you safe.”

**Author's Note:**

> I swear this was going to be a cute little oneshot about Arthur and his Tennesee Walker but then plotbunnies happened. (Also if anyone's wondering about the description of Hosea's steed not fitting Silver Dollar - I don't think they'll still have the same horses twenty years in the future, so have fun with my headcanons instead :D I have sooooo many of them)
> 
> PS: Comments are love, comments are life ♥


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